


Small Favors

by Darth_Videtur



Series: Master and Apprentice [9]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: Darth Plagueis - James Luceno, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: Rise of Empire Era - All Media Types
Genre: Apprentice Legislator Palpatine, Bloodplay, Forced Prostitution, M/M, Master/Apprentice, Nipple Piercings, Piercings, Plagueis is one exacting Master..., Planet Naboo (Star Wars), Political Campaigns, Political Favors, Seduction, Sexual Abuse, Sith, Sith Shenanigans, Sith rituals, Sith slash, Slash, Theed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-20
Updated: 2017-01-22
Packaged: 2018-09-01 00:05:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8599183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darth_Videtur/pseuds/Darth_Videtur
Summary: Darth Plagueis has ensured that his apprentice is well trained in the arts of war and love, and now he is ready to advance the young Sith Lord into the larger galaxy. There is only one small favor left to bestow.





	1. Marked for Glory

Theed’s fall was beautiful, the greenery gaining a bronzed edge of reds and browns that Plagueis found endlessly fascinating. Once again, it was the cycle of life and death, rebirth and finality. Someday, he and his talented apprentice would be the only ones to break that cycle wide open, but until then, he enjoyed watching it play out like grand theater in the galaxy around them.

 

His apprentice, still in his own spring at a mere twenty-four years of age, had an apartment in the western quarter of Theed. Hego Damask, upon completing an important item of business with Ars Veruna, had made his way to the small flat, ostensibly to congratulate his friend on a successful year in the Legislature.

 

“Tapalo’s third term is arriving soon,” Palpatine said quietly when Plagueis entered the living room. His Master swept across to the drink bar and collected a long wine glass, into which he poured a significant amount from the bottle on the counter, turning leisurely to eye his young apprentice. Sidious sat on his low couch, datapad clutched lazily in one hand, legs crossed at the knee.

 

“It is, and it appears he has no real rival to challenge his rule.”

 

“His thugs have ensured that,” Palpatine scoffed. “He’s intimidated half of his opponents away, the ones that might have posed a serious threat to his reelection chances. We barely needed to set anything in motion this time around.”

 

Plagueis nodded. “How easily corruption takes root in your human societies. King Tapalo is arrogant and assured of his place in the monarchy, but little does he realize how much he has come to rely on the compliance of his underlings, and the grace of his… allies.”

 

They shared a conspiratorial look.  

 

Palpatine lowered his gaze respectfully after a moment. “You were wise to support him from the beginning, Master.”

 

“And you,” Plagueis nodded genially. “You deliberately disobeyed your father, ran the risk of disownment to bring this change to your planet.”

 

Palpatine affected a nonchalant shrug and kept his eyes fixed on the floor. “That would have been no great loss. I knew Tapalo was the key to opening Naboo to the galaxy. None of the other candidates held his modern beliefs. Corrupt as he is, he suits our purposes well.”

 

Plagueis nodded, admiring his astute young apprentice. Sidious was turning into a fine young human, carrying himself more elegantly every day in word and deed. Some of the boyish awkwardness was leaving his lean limbs, though he had always been graceful compared to most of his human peers. He moved with delicate precision. Plagueis shook himself free of his wandering thoughts.

 

“And Veruna as well, though that one is less clear to see in the Force. He has a strong will of his own, perhaps even slightly Force-sensitive.”

 

Veruna’s midichlorians might be interesting to study, at any rate.

 

Sidious looked up. “I’ve wondered that as well, Master. Clearly, not strong enough to be of much use to him. Do you believe he will be a danger to our plans in the future?”

 

Plagueis turned a keen eye on him. “Do you?”

 

Pausing, Sidious lifted one slender hand to his chin in thought, and Plagueis could easily see him, a little older and more distinguished, sitting in a seat of power, deciding the fate of an entirely galaxy and not just a single man. Was this a vision of the future, however steeped in the present it was?

 

Finally, Sidious nodded. “He will be. He is much too independent-minded.”

 

Plagueis smiled, pleased. “Which makes him very useful to us at the moment. His independent streak will lead him to appoint you as Naboo’s new Ambassador in the wake of Tapalo’s reelection, as a personal favor to me.”

 

Palpatine’s bushy red eyebrows lifted in surprise. “Already, Master? I thought…”

 

Plagueis waited.

 

“I thought you wished me to remain in the background for now.”

 

Was that a note of suspicion in his erudite voice? Or was it merely his imagination? It did not matter.

 

“I did. Now your chance has come, most fortuitously,” Plagueis nodded. “You have been very patient, Lord Sidious, allowing opportunities to pass you by that might have propelled you into the spotlight much sooner.”

 

Sidious dipped his head. “I knew doing so could perhaps endanger our larger goals, Master.”

 

“And now your patience has paid off. Well done, Apprentice. Walk with me,” Plagueis motioned him forward, wine glass in hand, and together they moved down the wide hallway of Palpatine’s modest apartment in Theed.

 

A human of simple needs, his apprentice was. Since selling Convergence, the only signs of personal interest were the occasional statues scattered here and there around the rooms, a nice generic painting, some simple and elegant furniture. But Veruna was not like his apprentice. Veruna had very particular, very exact needs, Plagueis mused. By the end of this month on Naboo, Palpatine would earn his support, but he needed to be prepared first.

 

Sidious would not like it.

 

“What do you know of our friend Ars Veruna, my apprentice?” Plagueis asked as they walked into the circular kitchen. Palpatine’s apartment was small, and the kitchen was smaller yet, containing only the basic essentials for a functional room to eat and cook.

 

Sidious followed him complacently, if not curiously. “He is someone worthy only of derision, Master. Veruna is a gluttonous and greedy fool, and a pervert in addition to all his other sins.” The younger Sith smirked. “The worst, of course, being that hideous beard.”

 

Plagueis lifted one hairless brow and played the innocent with perfect sincerity. “Pervert?”

 

“Yes, he fancies young men and boys. It’s long been a rumor in the politics of Theed, but I’ve had him watched closely,” Sidious shrugged. “His habits become clear, once you know where to look. The younger they are, the more excited he gets.”

 

Plagueis took a moment to revel in the disgust radiating from his apprentice’s shields. “Is that so? Hm.”

 

“He has a country estate,” Sidious said. “He keeps some there, we think. Even some of the lesser houses have entrusted him with their sons over the years. No one talks about it anymore now that he is in power under Tapalo.”

 

Curious, Plagueis tilted his elongated head. “Did Cosinga ever entrust you to him?”

 

The young human offered a soft bark of a laugh and shook his head, crossing the kitchen to the refrigeration unit and opening it to peer inside at the spare contents. “Hardly, though it was not for lack of trying on Veruna’s part. My father despised Ars Veruna. For all his own indiscretions, at least Cosinga was never that.”

 

The Sith Master slid carefully into one of the seats at the small table and steepled his crooked thin fingers. “Veruna made passes at you when you were younger?”

 

A new stiffness had settled across Palpatine’s shoulders, but he maintained his unaffected tone when he answered, staring at his food supplies. “Several times. He liked my hair, made me many promises of how he could make me powerful if I would just spread my legs for him.”

 

It was a testament to Plagueis’s thorough training that Palpatine could say such ribald things without even blushing anymore. Unless he wanted to. Indeed, the boy was developing nicely.

 

“And you never reported him? How young were you?”

 

“Thirteen? Fourteen? And what good would that have done, Master? My father never believed me in anything I said. I was a troublemaker for the security forces in Theed, they remembered who I was.” Sidious finally looked up from his perusal, a small block of cheese in hand, a faint grin on his thin lips. “I think they would have liked it if Veruna had secreted me away to his estate. I made life miserable for them more than once.”

 

Plagueis shared his smile. Even so young, Palpatine had set aside the restricting social code that his culture tried to impose on him. Guiltless and diabolical, a wild force of nature. A storm rolling in on high winds and sweeping all expectations before it.  

 

“When Veruna spoke to you, what did you learn of him?”

 

Sidious moved to the counter and pulled out a wooden block and long knife. Plagueis watched him. How elegant his hands looked with a weapon in them, though this time only the cheese suffered a mortal wounding, falling in thin slices with each methodical stroke.

 

“Apprentice?”

 

Palpatine paused. “This personal favor of yours, Master…”

 

Plagueis chuckled. “Now you begin to see. What does our hirsute Naboo enjoy in his more pleasurable pursuits?”

 

It was not a question anymore. Sidious turned to look at him, eyes bright with distaste. “Once, I had my left ear pierced, to anger my father after a strong… disagreement we had. Veruna noticed before Cosinga did and told me that he liked it, that he would like to see more. He tried to come on to me that day, in the palace, but I escaped without too much trouble.”

 

“You can be a slippery one,” Plagueis smirked in amused agreement. “Well, then. Do you understand, now?”

 

Sidious held one of the pieces of cheese but did nothing with it. His blank expression never changed. “You wish me to get my ear pierced again and seduce Veruna into appointing me as Ambassador for Naboo.”

 

“Close,” Plagueis nodded. “I have had Veruna studied for months now as well, and I believe I know exactly what will give us the edge. He has… certain interests. Come over here and remove your shirt.”

 

The young Naboo blinked, but hesitated only a moment before setting his snack aside and complying. The Muun watched in open appreciation as the human wriggled out of his tunic, exposing a torso that was still boyish for its twenty-four years, still lean and pale and delicate, though powerful through years of harsh Sith training. Yes, this would work splendidly, Plagueis thought as he studied the small pale nipples, hardening from the cool touch of the kitchen air.

 

Sidious paused before him, waiting.

 

“Look at you,” Plagueis murmured. “You will be what has managed to avoid him, set before him at last, as a feast, as a celebration and sacrifice to his whims. I can only imagine that his secret desire for you grew stronger each time you or your father turned him away. He will not be able to resist my request after seeing you.”

 

Palpatine’s eyes narrowed.

 

“You are good at that, you know. Resisting until you become irresistible,” Plagueis grinned, showing off unfriendly teeth.  “It is part of the charm you bring to the table when you must seduce an overconfident foe. You have been perfectly trained for moments such as these.”

 

“I won’t fail us, Master,” Palpatine replied, voice low. “I will be Ambassador.”

 

“Yes, you will. And this will help.” Plagueis reached into an internal pocket and produced two small studs of silver and burnished durasteel.

 

For the first time, Palpatine’s shell cracked, and he swallowed softly. “Master?”

 

Plagueis stood and motioned him forward. “Sit on the table, my apprentice.” As Sidious complied slowly, Plagueis handed him the studs and searched for the long needle. “Did you ever read in those tomes of yours how the ancient Sith practiced ritualistic pain and self-mutilation?”

 

“I’ve read it,” Sidious said. His hand clenched in a fist around the studs. “The practice rose from the barbarian roots of their civilizations, from an uncivilized time.”

 

“And yet to succeed, sometimes we must adopt the ways of the uncivilized,” Plagueis nodded as he revealed the cased long needle with a flourish. Palpatine, to his credit, did not flinch.

 

Plagueis passed his apprentice a small bacta-wipe, which Sidious took hesitantly. “Clean the area, Apprentice. Infection, though sufficiently painful, is not what we require. When I pierce you soon, you will feel the connection to the ancient ways of the Sith. This is not merely to seduce and achieve your political position, but to honor the timeless line of blooded Sith Lords.”

 

“Tatoos were also very common, Master.”

 

Plagueis watched the young human wipe down both nipples with the bacta, saw the slender hand shaking slightly, but not with fear. No, with carefully controlled anger, that his master would presume to mark him thus.

 

He grinned and leaned closer. “Perhaps I shall get you one of those too, if you are so eager.”

 

“It is not necessary,” Sidious said, watching him coldly but respectfully.

 

“Pain both releases and harnesses power,” Plagueis reached out one long hand and touched his apprentice. Palpatine shivered. Rubbing the pad of his thumb over the hard nub, the Sith Master smiled. “The pain you must take into yourself and allow it to make you stronger. But with piercings such as these, the Sith Order has long known that pleasure must accompany the pain, and that pleasure you must turn outward. You must project.”

 

At his firm pinch, Sidious uttered a soft gasp.

 

“A normal piercing is pain and pleasure enough, but a piercing infused with the blessing of the Dark Side, with alchemy and sorcery… Do you know what these piercings will do to you, Apprentice?”

 

At the solemn shake of the shaggy red head, Plagueis grinned. “Your little nipples will become much more sensitive to play, and they were already so tender. Perhaps one touch will be all it takes to awaken you. You will have to center yourself in the Force to keep from growing hard when you shouldn’t. Consider it a test of your self-control.”

 

“Master, I will be a politician. I cannot be constantly-”

 

Plagueis gripped his chin in a vise hold. “You can if I desire it to be so, Lord Sidious. It is my duty as Sith Master to ensure that you can endure any trial, no matter how painful…” He glanced down meaningfully. “Or pleasurable…”

 

Sidious dropped his gaze slowly. “Of course, Master.”

 

“You will wear these until the day I say you no longer need them. Is that understood?”

 

Sidious nodded silently, flinching when his master gripped one nipple tightly and brought the needle to bear. Uttering a low chant in the Sith language, Plagueis slid the sharp point into the pale skin at the base and heard his apprentice hiss as the needle passed through his flesh. The Dark Side smoked and curled in on the wound, feeding off the pain and driving it unnaturally high. A thin line of bright red blood sprang from the point of contact and trickled down the ribcage, and Palpatine bit his lip when Plagueis forced it all the way through.  

 

There was no point in being gentle.

 

 _Pain to pleasure, pleasure to pain,_ Plagueis chanted in Sith as he left the needle, ran his thumb through the blood, and marked his apprentice’s high cheekbones and chin in the pattern of ancient Sith blood play. He paused; in this light, the pattern resembled a dark and twisted mockery of the royal facepaint of Naboo’s monarchs. How very fitting, to see this eldritch creature of darkness thus adorned and marked for his future glory.

 

What he was unleashing on the galaxy… Plagueis shivered with delight.

 

They could feel the savage hunger of the Dark Side surrounding them both as the ritual words pulled it close. He pried the first stud from Palpatine’s clenched fingers and slid it onto the needle, and then it was through and in, and Palpatine’s breath came in soft pants. Plagueis smiled. “Do you feel it?”

 

Sidious nodded.

 

The second piercing slid in without incident, but Palpatine’s whole body shook with the intensity of the Dark Side ritualistic sorcery. Plagueis stepped back to look him over, noting how the cheeks were flushed, the lips parted.

 

“Is it done, Master?” Sidious asked, cautiously hopeful, and Plagueis nodded.

 

“It will suffice.” He might have made his apprentice more sensitive, but the Sith Master had to admit that the sight of his apprentice pierced and marked with his own blood was intoxicating for both of them. He could feel his desire stirring hard against his pants. Plagueis swallowed roughly. “Let it heal naturally, my apprentice, but in the meantime, the ritual must be brought to completion.”

 

The narrow face conveyed open suspicion and doubt, but Sidious waited on the table resigned and unresisting. Plagueis reached for the human’s trousers and undid the complex Naboo buttons, pulling both pants and undergarments down and off his apprentice’s lean legs. He looked down and smiled. Sidious was twitching, his slender cock half hard from the power of the ritual.

 

Plagueis reached out a hand and planted it in the center of the bloody chest, pushing Palpatine onto his back on the table and using his other hand to undo his own trousers. Palpatine’s booted feet dangled limply off the edge of the table, his lean thighs parted and quivering. With a grin, the Sith master pulled his apprentice down the length of the table until his firm ass was completely accessible.

 

When he slid in with little preparation, the rough burn caught both of them up in agonized pleasure. Sidious arched his back and snarled when Plagueis reached up and tugged playfully on the studs in his aching nipples. Fresh blood oozed down over his skin. Plagueis licked at one salty line, trailed his tongue up between the ribs across the flat stomach, and Sidious whimpered.

 

The Force roared in his ears, and he thrust hard until he came, with no thought for his apprentice who writhed in pain under him. For a moment, the Dark Lord paused all movements, his hands wrapping around narrow biceps and Sidious stilled with an effort. With a low sigh, Plagueis released the thin arms and dipped his fingertips in the cooling blood, touched them to Palpatine’s trembling lips.

 

“Let it heal,” he whispered. “And then please him, my Apprentice. Please him well. The time has come for us to put your powers into play.”

 

Sidious stared up at him, eyes like sparked flint, reflecting the blood smeared across his cheeks. “Yes, my Master…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Sidious is thinking, “And time to put yours out to pasture. I wish.”  
> 2\. The Darth Plagueis novel says this about Palpatine’s appointment to Ambassador, which kickstarted this short story. “Only King Tapalo’s chief minister, Ars Veruna, knew that Damask was grooming him for a career in galactic politics, and, as a personal favor to the Muun, had appointed Palpatine Naboo’s ambassador.” So… some Veruna headcanoning ensued as to what that personal favor was…  
> 3\. So we get to witness Sidious actually using the skills his master and the Zeltron have taught him for exactly this reason. Poor Palpatine. It’s an ageless method to manipulate, but still exceedingly awful.  
> 4\. Also, Plagueis has no clue how close he came to the truth in this chapter. Poor overconfident Muun.


	2. Arrival of the Sacrifice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Palpatine makes his way to his very important appointment, and wishes he could kill everything along the way.

Today, the temperature could best be described as humidly miserable on this hemisphere of Naboo. Summers on Naboo took pride in outdoing the bitterly cold winters.

 

Miserable. How fitting.

 

Palpatine tugged at his cummerbund, the wide dark green swath of cloth tightly wrapped around his slender waist. He needed to look perfect today, thanks to his master’s dark sense of humor and irony. All these years, he had escaped the attention of one slimy Ars Veruna, and now he approached the older man’s summer dwelling with the sole intention to offer himself in exchange for confirming his appointment as the new Ambassador of Naboo.

 

The young Naboo gritted his teeth. He would certainly be a difficult prize to resist, he and his master had made certain of that. His clothes consisted of the finest imported silks and velvets, sewn into an intricately brocaded black vest, a full-sleeved tan undershirt, and trimmed trousers such a dark red they looked nearly black, tucked carefully into knee-high glossy black boots. A half-cape of matching green lay over one shoulder at a jaunty angle.  

 

He knew the importance of appearance with Veruna. The outfit was a unique and distinctly Naboo blend of youth and ambition, a statement of confidence and vulnerability alike. The colors spoke boldness, the relative lack of layers an openness that Palpatine did not feel, not for the man he was supposed to seduce. Or anyone, for that matter.

 

Naboo being caught in the doldrums of summertime, Palpatine knew his scattered freckles stood out stronger than usual in sharp contrast to his pale skin, making him look younger than his twenty-four years. Plagueis had thought of everything. Truly, he ought to be grateful for a Sith master who showed him such an example to follow, and in most things Sidious admired the Muun’s attention to detail. Lightsaber dueling, Force Lightning, Sith sorcery when he bothered to use it, and much more.

 

Not this. Sidious fought a surge of deadly anger that told him to turn around and go home, spit in Plagueis’s face, accept the lightning and the agonizing pain between his legs that would surely follow, the endless ache in his battered identity. The black hole that hungered for the master’s blood pooling at his feet in sweet revenge.

 

Such fantasies felt good, more than good, but a different reality stood before him now. He was only the learner still. He could not turn around, not when Plagueis had chosen this path for him. Turning would only delay the inevitable and perhaps worsen it a thousand times over. He could put nothing past the deviousness of Darth Plagueis.

 

How bad could Veruna be? After the pirates, Rok Naros, and his master, one mere human hardly seemed a challenge to have Darth Sidious contemplating retreat…  Palpatine lost himself in his thoughts as his booted feet carried him up the long street.

 

_The morning after Darth Plagueis had forced the latest humiliation on his apprentice, Palpatine found the Muun sitting calmly at his dining room table, sipping a cup of spiced nysillim tea and watching the morning news on the holoprojector. Moving tenderly, Palpatine pulled to an abrupt halt at the sight of his master. Instantly he tensed. He didn’t like how well his master could cloak himself in the mundane, though it was a skill Sidious was quickly learning to share._

_Plagueis looked up and swept his eyes over the human’s bare chest. The boldness made the young man shiver. “Good morning, Lord Sidious.”_

_“You’ve returned,” Palpatine replied and wished he could kick himself for such an inane commentary._

_Plagueis nodded, unoffended by his apprentice’s stunned expression. “I wished to reassure myself that the ritual had taken. You look well.”_

_Palpatine blinked. A compliment? “Thank you, Master.” Dipping his head, he slunk past the dining room into the kitchen to find the strongest cup of blackened caf possible. Plagueis simply watched him pass, and Palpatine swore he could feel those small eyes tracing his outline in appraisal. The Dark Side moved in his veins like a thousand angry serpents coiling over his bones. He shook them away and found his caf._

_When he left the kitchen and rejoined his master, Plagueis waved him into the opposite chair, and Palpatine found himself wishing for a shirt. Last night, the pain had been too great to attempt wearing anything over the wounds. Even then, he’d tossed and turned, driven by dark dreams and woken by the sharp needles slicing through his flesh, over and over and over and over._

_Now… he much preferred the idea of that pain to the way the Sith master openly inspected him. He forced his shoulders to remain straight and not curl inward. Plagueis could not know how much he hated him in this moment. Not until… no. Not yet. He sipped his caf calmly, eyes downcast and submissive._

_A chuckle made him look up. “You will be irresistible,” Plagueis smiled at him with that strange gash that passed for lips among the Muun species. Palpatine nodded silently, seething. Couldn’t they just… forget for a while?_

_“You are quiet this morning. Quieter than usual.”_

_Evidently not._

_Palpatine curled his fingers around the mug. “There is little to say, Master. I am surprised you are still on Naboo.”_

_Plagueis waved his long hand in clear dismissal. “My meeting with the Directorate was cancelled at the last minute. They mean to slight Damask Holdings, but they hurt only their own chances.”_

_Palpatine nodded. Surreal, to have his Sith master sitting in his apartment dining room, sipping his tea and carrying on a conversation as though he had not just tortured his apprentice with an archaic ritual, not just mutilated his slender body with adornments that most Naboo thought belonged only on whores and strange foreigners._

_Well… he had always been considered an interloper by his family, a foreigner of sorts. And ever since Plagueis had set out to break him, the endless rape, the Gatherings, the training, the pirates, the girl – don’t think of her name…. well, perhaps whore was no longer so inapplicable either. He clenched the mug tightly to hold in the hiss of utter disdain in his throat._

_Plagueis wanted him to whore himself to Veruna. Did he think this would break him as all the other indignities had not?_ Sorry to disappoint you, Master, _he thought savagely. He had been trained too well. It didn’t matter that Veruna had stalked him as a boy… it didn’t matter that a lump of something not quite horror clumped in his chest and strangled his voice when he thought of enticing that monster to his bed._

_He was not afraid. Just angry. So angry, and that was normal. He focused the anger, allowed it to grow cold and suffocate the fear and revulsion._

_As if Plagueis could sense his thoughts, the Muun leaned forward. “You must do better to accustom yourself to your path, Lord Sidious. Veruna is the first chance you have to display your skills. Do well with him, and the times that follow will be easier.”_

_“Times that follow?” Palpatine couldn’t stop the sharp question._

_Plagueis chuckled. “Do you believe I had you trained in the art of love-making simply for my own pleasure? Do you remember what I told you when I first tasted your sweet flesh? Of the role seduction plays in gaining power and influence over the brainless masses?”_

_Palpatine fought a blush of shame and nodded. Oh yes, he remembered everything and too much besides._

_“Six years now,” Plagueis mused, “And the delights you offer have only grown more intoxicating, much as your power in the Dark Side has grown stronger and stronger. Veruna might give you anything you ask for after he takes you.”_

_Was that… a hint of jealously in his master’s deep voice? Palpatine dropped his gaze to the table. “Should I ask for more, Master?”_

_Plagueis shook his head. “Only the ambassadorship, Sidious. The Dark Side is patient, and we must not overextend our advantage. This appointment will position you well for the time Veruna becomes king.”_

_Palpatine drew in a slow breath. “I understand, Master.”_

_“You will. I know I ask much of you, my apprentice,” Plagueis admitted. “You have loathed Veruna for years. You fear his touch more than mine.”_

_“I fear nothing, Master.”_

_Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. His hackles rose._

_Plagueis tilted his elongated head and procured a mysterious, unfriendly smile. “Of course you don’t. You are true Sith, unafraid to face the heights and depths of life. You are becoming something very great indeed, Lord Sidious. Great and terrible.”_

_Palpatine held his features in perfect blankness, as though he cared little for this conversation._

_Plagueis’s smile broadened. “Yes, there is that haughtiness that drew me to you for the first time on Theed, when I watched you walk across the university grounds. You know you are meant for more than a mediocre existence. Your trials are great, my apprentice,” and if Palpatine did not know him, the Muun would have sounded truly sympathetic. “But great trials forge great power. You are nearly ready.”_

_He swallowed the hate. “Thank you, my master.”_

_Plagueis nodded and rose in one swift motion from the table. He glanced down at the dregs of the tea still in his cup. “You know, I’ve never had spiced nysillum tea before. It is very sweet… and yet…”_

_Palpatine stilled, sensing a lesson._

_Plagueis sighed. “So sweet, such a delight to partake thereof, and yet a bitterness shows if left on the heat too long. One must be careful not to let the bitterness show in the final presentation of such a delicacy, yes?”_

_The young human stared at the cup. A veiled warning, of course. Plagueis gathered his green cloak, as no answer was required. The message rang clear._

_No bitterness. Veruna must be pleased. Grin and bear it… or else suffer the displeasure of his master. Palpatine waited until Plagueis left his apartment before shattering the mug against the far wall with a strangled cry of pure hate. He stared at the scattered shards glittering on the floor, imagined every one of them sliding through Plagueis’s grey flesh into his three hearts, fought the frightened daring pleasure at the thought…_

Weeks later, and Palpatine still thought of those shards long swept away. Now, standing in front of the opulent entrance of Veruna’s summer home in the retreat city of Vis, more than two hundred kilometers from Theed, he could not shake the image from his mind. Vis perched on the edge of the vast Lake of Vis, and Veruna had a long family history in this region, his cousin having been the famous Earl of Vis.

 

The summer home sprawled lazily in the center of a landscape of hundreds of acres. To his right, he could see the stables and pastures for the chief minister’s collection of beloved gualamas. Veruna loved twirrling, boasted often of his kills as though he were the one to fly through the air and plunge down upon his prey. Palpatine grunted.

 

The only prey Veruna bothered to hunt for himself were helpless boys.

 

On his left, he could see a massive boathouse and series of ramps on an inlet of the lake. Gentled wildlife grazed on the long grasses of the downward slope. Tall, tuft-tailed ikopi lifted their stunted necks and glanced his way before returning to their feedings in disinterest. He wondered if Veruna hunted them too, from the safety of his back veranda.   

 

When he finally reached the door of the mansion, Palpatine smoothed away the darker thoughts and produced a friendly smile as he pressed the intercom button. Security had already cleared him on entering the property; no doubt, Veruna already knew of his arrival. The Naboo and overdone protocol, Palpatine thought drily, went hand in hand.

 

What he was not entirely expecting was the individual who opened the door. Not a recording, not a droid, but a human, and a young one at that. Palpatine hid his surprise as the youthful male smiled down at him. He was much taller than the Sith apprentice, much more tanned, almost as slim and lithe, and his hair…

 

Red. Red as his own and curly on the ends. Palpatine fought the temptation to turn and leave. So Veruna was opening with the first shot across the bow…

 

The boy smiled; he couldn’t have been more than twenty years of age, maybe eighteen if Palpatine had to guess. A minor… The Sith’s lips lifted in a sneer that he quickly transformed into a smile like the one beaming down on him. “Hello, my name is Palpatine, I have an appointment with the Minister this afternoon.”

 

“Palpatine?” the boy’s cheerful expression never changed. “Of course, the Minister said you were coming. Please, come in.” He backed up and gestured the young noble forward.

 

Palpatine moved cautiously into the foyer, brushing his summer-mudded boots against the self-cleaning rug, glancing about and taking in everything in an instant, extending his senses in the Force as Plagueis had taught him. The entryway loomed long and large, the walls coated in a variety of hunting trophies and taxidermies of every Naboo creature imaginable plus several imports. He could sense a dozen lifeforms alone drifting about the mansion as they attended to their duties.  

 

“Impressive, isn’t it?”

 

“Most.” At the bell like laugh, Palpatine turned his attention back to the other. For the first time, he truly noticed how little he was wearing. The young man wore a simple shendyt of expensively spun off-white silks, fastened with a belt of hammered, decorated gold. He was barefoot and barechested, smooth muscles gleaming in the light that streamed from multiple floor-to-ceiling stained glass windows on the right side of the entryway.

 

Palpatine flushed when he noticed the thin gold hoops in each of the dusky nipples, a thin chain linking them together across the broad chest. He looked back down the hallway before the anger blinded him. “Is he available?”

 

The boy laughed again. “The Minister is always available to the right people, sir.”

 

Palpatine wanted to squirm. He was maybe five, six, seven years older than this one; he didn’t like the address, not when the other was dressed like that and talking like that. “Just Palpatine is fine.”

 

The young man’s eyes widened. “I’m a humble servant, sir. We’re not supposed to be so familiar with the Minister’s guests. It’s not proper.”

 

“Are you supposed to make guests happy?” Palpatine half-snapped and regretted the sharp tone when the boy flinched and shrank back. At the meek nod, he softened his voice to a matter-of-fact friendliness. “Then call me Palpatine.”

 

A slow, real smile grew on the young face. “Of course, Palpatine. Thank you.” He held out a large hand for the travel cape, and Palpatine unfastened it reluctantly and handed it over. 

 

He shifted impatiently on his boots as the servant hung it in the adjoining storage closet; the poor young fool.

 

“If you’ll follow me, Palpatine, I’ll take you to him.”

 

Palpatine nodded and padded silently after the other young man, studying the halls and rooms that they passed, over a dozen ranging from a large dining hall to an enclosed garden. He glanced in the entrance of one door and saw a boy, younger than the one he followed and dressed in a thin shift, tending a sauna and preparing it for the evening. He jerked back and quickened his pace, fighting the nausea bubbling up in his throat.

 

When he became Sith Master, he would have this entire place razed to the ground, and Veruna’s guts spread over the salted earth. If not before.

 

The servant arrived at a closed door and tapped gently on the wood surface. Palpatine noticed the elegant designs carved in the soft wood: a hunt of the ancient Naboo, their greysors yelping about the lifted hooves of royal gualamas, the humans pointing excitedly as they pursued their prey, half a dozen proud and fierce zalaaca cornered in the upper right of the door.

 

He sneered.

 

The young man tapped harder, and Veruna’s deep voice filtered through. “Come in.”

 

Dipping his head and swallowing, the servant swung the door inward and stepped inside, beckoning Palpatine after him. He looked around the room as he entered. An ornate blend of ancient woods and modern technology, it clearly served as Veruna’s office-away-from-Theed. Veruna sat behind a massive desk, feeding messily on a platter of fish that no doubt came from the glittering lake framed in the panorama window behind him.   

 

Veruna’s beady eyes brightened when he saw Palpatine half hidden behind the servant. Brushing the crumbs and bits of flaky flesh from his beard, he stood from his chair and circled around the edge of the desk. “Palpatine, it’s good to see you again! How have you been in the Legislature?”

 

One might imagine he didn’t have designs if one didn’t feel the sweatiness of his meaty paw when he offered it in greeting. One might imagine that Veruna hadn’t tried to move on him when he was only fourteen and younger yet. Palpatine swallowed the revulsion and returned the handshake heartily. “Well enough, Minister. I’ve learned a great deal in my time there.”

 

“And now you think you’re ready for more?” Veruna chuckled and waved him toward several plush chairs in a small, sunken cove off the side of the main room.

 

Palpatine moved forward, feigning a jovial chuckle of his own. “Everyone has dreams, Minister.”

 

Veruna followed closely, perhaps too closely to be proper. “We certainly do. Can I get you something to drink, my young friend?”

 

“A brandy might not be amiss,” Palpatine said, sinking into one of the soft chairs. A brandy might take the edge off his nerves, might steady his hands when the time came…

 

Veruna grinned as he occupied the chair opposite of the younger Naboo. “I’ve got something better in mind. How does blossom wine suit you?”

 

“Every Naboo is an admirer of such a delicacy.”

 

Veruna waved at the servant boy. “Bring us wine, and be quick about it.”

 

The young man smiled and slipped silently from the room, with only the soft jangle of the chain announcing his departure. Veruna watched him go with a half smile playing on his thick lips before he turned back to Palpatine. “That’s Spice. He’s been in my service for, oh, nearly five years now. Very well trained.”  

 

“Spice,” Palpatine repeated doubtfully, to cover the hideous burn in his chest. How he wanted to kill this man instead.

 

Laughter filled the room. “Not his real name, of course,” Veruna admitted when he caught his breath. “I give my servants names of their own when they join me. Makes it easier to remember who they are. Spice got his name for his hair, and a few particular talents he possesses.”

 

Palpatine took a deep breath. “Doubtless impressive, Minister.”

 

“Oh, very,” he smirked, lascivious, greedy.

 

Palpatine wondered how well the lush carpet would hold up to vomit.

 

Veruna massaged the arm of his chair with thick fingers. “Spice actually comes from a minor family of nobles. Not like yours and mine, not the royal Houses of Naboo, but his family provided him to me as a favor when they faced severe poverty. In return, I helped them restore their family’s honor and wealth.”

 

So the man wanted a medal, Palpatine hid his disdain. Veruna took a boy from his family and fucked him for blackmail, and then boasted about it. He wondered who the family was, if he had known them, had known Spice. He didn’t remember him at all. “From Theed?”

 

“No, Kaadara.”

 

“Ah.”   

 

He struggled to reconcile himself to the inevitable. Best to begin now, when Veruna seemed to be reveling in his disgusting habit. “Do all your servants dress in like manner?” He managed to make the question sound innocent and thought Plagueis would be proud to hear how his voice didn’t even shake.

 

Veruna shared a sly smile with him, an appraising smile. “It is summer, Sheev. The heat out here is unbelievable, though not so bad as in Theed. I wouldn’t want my boys getting heatstroke.”

 

“How thoughtful,” Palpatine looked down at the arm of his own chair and tried to calm his heartrate at the use of his given name. Veruna had no right. No right. Cosinga would be enraged if he were still alive. Oh, Cosinga would die of a heart attack about now if he knew what his son was attempting.

 

He turned his attention sharply back to Veruna. “They don’t mind,” the older man was saying as he stroked his beard. “They’re quite grateful for my attention, actually. My influence and favor gets them further than they could otherwise dream.”

 

“Your influence is renowned,” Palpatine said quietly and forced his body to relax against the cool leather, to let his legs part casually, just a bit. It had to happen, had to. “I have no doubt that with you at the helm, Tapalo’s third term is guaranteed.”

 

Veruna preened, but he noticed the subtle shift with hawklike eyes. “Our opposition doesn’t stand a chance. I’ll be Governor of Theed soon, too. All the positions are up for refreshment this coming year.”

 

“Including Ambassador,” Palpatine drawled and watched as Veruna lifted his broad brow and studied the younger man openly. The air filled with a previously unknown tension. The moment ripened.  

 

Palpatine tried to prepare himself for the next step. He could not back down now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. It was interesting world-building for Veruna. Not much is said about him personally in the novel, but I got such a strong impression of a slimy, self-serving individual that most of this was becoming headcanon the moment I read about him. If I had to describe Veruna in one word, I might use “gluttony,” in the sense that he is too ambitious and greedy for his own good.  
> 2\. Poor Palpatine, he underestimated how cruel Veruna can be.  
> 3\. Spice is an OC, and probably not one destined to live long in the galaxy. :/ I feel so sorry for him. Maybe Palps can find some sympathy in his black heart…. That’ll be the day….  
> 4\. There is an added difficulty for Palpatine here. This is his first mission in this vein, and it’s Veruna, his childhood tormentor. This is not a good day for him. :/


	3. For the Cause

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Palpatine steels himself for what must be done. But unlike a slave, he doesn't have to like it. There's only one complication...

Spice arrived just when Palpatine feared that Veruna would deny him outright. The servant boy carried in a tray laden with two goblets and a chilled pitcher of dark wine, the finest judging by the empty labeled bottle on the side. Veruna waved him forward, and soon both Naboo held full goblets. For a long moment, they sat in silence, Palpatine sipping delicately at his drink and allowing Veruna to admire the tilt of his slender neck against the high collar of the vest. Veruna’s drink disappeared at a much faster rate than his own, and the minister ordered Spice to refill his glass.

 

“The problem is this,” Veruna sighed as the tall boy retreated to the wall of the room, tossing his head back and downing another long swallow of blossom wine. “We’re not in the strongest position of power to just go appointing such an unknown like you as Ambassador. You might be the head of House Palpatine now, Sheev, but you have no family remaining, and not many connections. To get you confirmed might be difficult, despite what Hego Damask thinks.”

 

He was lying, protecting his interests. Veruna trailed off.

 

“You doubt my talents?” Palpatine asked softly, sliding his finger around the rim of the glass. Veruna tracked his movements, eyes narrowed.

 

“I’m one of the few willing to give you a chance, Sheev,” he finally said. “Don’t forget that I’m about the only one who knows Magister Damask has big plans for you. Play your cards right, and you’ll go far, but don’t get impatient. Impatience is a luxury for young ones.” He chuckled. “We play for keeps outside the walls of the Legislature.”

 

Palpatine took a slow breath and wished that Veruna would order Spice to leave. The boy was making him nervous. More nervous than his training could easily conceal. “I can be very patient, Minister.”

 

“You’re what? Twenty-two years old?” Veruna asked, feigning disdain for the youth in front of him.

 

Had he forgotten how blatantly he had propositioned Palpatine only ten years ago? What a wretched charlatan. Palpatine lifted his chin and smiled. “Twenty-four actually, Minister.”

 

Veruna wetted his lips. “You would barely be out from under your father’s sway, if he were still alive today.”

 

“But he’s not,” Palpatine let a little bit of grief grow in his eyes, playing the bereft orphan, before sweeping it away. “I am independent and have been for several years now.”

 

“You’re still a cub,” Veruna scoffed, but his symmetrical face, wider now than ten years before and lined with the fat of easy living, registered an anticipation that he couldn’t fully hide. In the Force, his miniscule presence brightened with faint arousal. Such a simple fool.

 

From the wall, Spice watched under lowered eyelids, his confusion and anxiety radiating in the Force. Perhaps he had some sensitivity. Perhaps not. The servant didn’t matter. What mattered was the mission.

 

Palpatine kept his expression pleasant and unassuming. “You might be surprised how… capable I am. Age isn’t necessarily a measure of wisdom.”

 

Veruna breathed deep. “So the saying goes. But…” He swallowed. “But I haven’t seen any proof of this capability of yours yet. So you impressed the masters in the Legislature. A lot do.”

 

Sliding his hands down the front of his vest under the pretense of smoothing it, Palpatine smiled when he caught Veruna watching him. The older man stiffened and placed his hands in his own lap to cover his growing interest.

 

“I possess a range of talents you might find most useful, Minister,” he said after a pregnant pause. “We can speak truthfully with each other, yes?”

 

Veruna eyed him, half in suspicion and half in lust. “For your sake, I suggest you do, Sheev.”

 

Palpatine set aside the wine glass, suppressing the tremble in his fingertips. This was a task, a trial, like any other. Plagueis would disappointed if he faltered now. The punishment would be… unpleasant. He reformed the loathing into intent and leaned forward slightly. “Well then, Minister, I’ll be honest when I say I prefer not to use that name any longer.”

 

Veruna froze under his gaze and forced a derisive laugh. “What do you want me to call you? Boy?”

 

Palpatine allowed just the tip of his tongue to part his lips, to tease Veruna with a hint of the forbidden wet warmth. “If that’s what you want, Minister. We’re being honest with each other, correct?”

 

Blinking suddenly, Veruna barely seemed able to speak. Citizens sometimes whispered about Veruna’s inclinations  around the halls of the palace, but only rumors, and here was – once again – the proof that the Chief Minister still liked them young. Just _how_ young might be excellent blackmail material someday. He remembered the boy by the sauna and fought against the acid in his empty stomach from making a surprise appearance.  

 

“You turned me down before. You’re playing a dangerous game… boy,” Veruna finally stammered, flushing a deep maroon behind his thick beard and moustache. His hands barely contained the tent in his trousers now.

 

Palpatine dropped his eyes to the older man’s lap and cocked his head. “Playing? What can I do to convince you that I am entirely serious, Minister?”

 

“What exactly are you willing to do?” Veruna looked anywhere but in his eyes, and Palpatine felt the hot gaze traveling down his slender body, the small mind imagining what lay beneath the rich fabric. _What an imagination, Veruna…_ The Minister’s debauched thoughts broadcast across the Force. _How utterly appalled your constituents would be to know the man you truly are…_

 

He shuffled the hot rage to the back of his shields and let a wicked smile flicker on his thin lips. “I’m willing to consider our options, Minister. We could both benefit greatly from a mutual… partnership.”

 

The room must have been getting warmer yet, because Veruna grabbed at his collar. “Are you capable of discretion, Sh - Palpatine? I’m not a nobody anymore, not like before. People are watching me all the time now.”

 

“My lips would be sealed,” he promised with low heat, “unless you wanted them unsealed, of course. I would serve at the pleasure of your office after all.”

 

Veruna grunted and shifted in his chair. “Big talk, boy. Can you put your credits where your mouth is?”

 

Palpatine slid forward in his own seat. “I could, but I’m not certain my mouth is in the right location, yet.” Their knees were almost touching, and when he reached out and laid a slender hand on Veruna’s thigh, the older Naboo almost jumped. Veruna breathed harshly.

 

The air froze for a long moment until he growled, “I can think of a better spot for it.”

 

_‘….Part of getting someone hard with your mouth is never letting it touch them, until the time is right,’ the Zeltron paused his fingers, his voice utterly soothing and milky. ‘You tease them first, human. You make them think they need your mouth and nothing else.’_

 

Palpatine shook the memory away and pushed Veruna’s legs apart, sliding off the chair and onto his knees in the small space between them. I think I know exactly what you mean, Minister.”

 

Veruna stared down at him, fixed in place, bearded face slack with surprise.

 

Palpatine nodded at the servant against the wall. “Send him away? So we can… speak in confidence?”

 

A half-dazed shake of the leonine head. “No. Ignore him, he can be trusted to hold his peace.”

 

Palpatine hesitated before he allowed his dexterous fingertips to toy with the ties of the elaborate robes. This wouldn’t be any worse than the pirates watching him. Spice was just a slave, a servant, worse off than himself by far. A nobody. Going nowhere. _Go on…_

 

“You’ll find I’m very talented at unraveling tense situations,” Palpatine said as he pulled the layers open and slipped his hand between the thick folds. “Any diplomat worthy of the title should know these things.”

 

Veruna sucked his breath in sharply when Palpatine’s hand wrapped around his hardening shaft. “Tense... boy…” He gasped as Palpatine tugged him playfully, his hands curling around the armrests of his chair. “You make a, ah, convincing case for yourself.”

 

“I’ll do my best,” he looked up under his lashes, and he knew the hooded invitation was crashing through the last hints of resistance in the older man. He steeled himself for what was coming, and soon enough meaty paws descended on his shoulders and twisted into the soft cloth. He tightened his grip in response. Veruna groaned.

 

“Fine…. Let’s finally see what you have to offer me, boy,” he said, words far and distant as blunt fingers roughly pulled at the younger man’s clothing, and Palpatine surrendered as Veruna insistently guided him to his feet. He glanced at Spice; the servant was studiously watching the other wall, a dark blush high on his tanned cheeks.

 

Veruna remained sitting, but his eyes lit up with pleasure, and he slid the vest from the narrow shoulders and unbuttoned the tan undershirt and pulled it down, exposing milky white skin and defined, wiry muscles. Palpatine felt the warm hands trail down his sides, coming to rest on his hips just over the band of his dark trousers.

 

The older man sucked in his breath sharply when he saw _them_.

 

Reaching out almost hesitantly, as if awed, Veruna touched the gleaming durasteel stud embedded in his left nipple. Palpatine shivered. For a moment he thought of Plagueis, who had this done to him, had pierced him so candidly, so completely… in more ways than one. He lowered his gaze demurely to the floor, as though he were having second thoughts. The older Naboo leered at the sight, his member stiffening further. “I admit I’m surprised, boy, but in a good way. Let’s put everything on the table.” 

 

He looked up as Veruna roughly untied his trousers with new eagerness and pushed them and the undergarments over his slim hips. Bracing himself on Veruna’s shoulders, he stepped out of the trousers and bent to tug at his boots, but Veruna stopped him. “Leave them, boy,” he hissed, licking his lips. “I like them on you. Makes you look… indecent. Unprepared.”

 

“But I am prepared, Minister,” Palpatine said softly. “For anything.” _Even this?_

 

The warm office air kissed him, evoking an involuntary shiver, perfectly timed as he couldn’t have done it himself in that moment, and Veruna’s eyes grew huge with dark delight as he took in the smooth skin and slender legs. “That’s more like it, boy.”

 

Palpatine bit his lip when he felt Veruna’s grip return to his hips and slide lower, curving over his firm buttocks and squeezing. “M-Minister,” he said haltingly, knowing that his sudden virginal hesitance was perfectly pitched, because Veruna’s breath quickened and his fingers tightened to the point of pain. 

 

Naboo’s chief minister was delighted, he could sense it in the Force. His anticipation building, Veruna reluctantly moved his hands up to apply pressure to Palpatine’s shoulders, and the younger man lowered to his knees in the pile of rich clothing. He resisted the urge to kill Veruna when the older man curled his thick hands around his neck, fingers possessive and moist with sweat.

 

He didn’t like this. Not at all. The Darkness sang under his skin. Sang for life dripping warm from his hands. Begged for blood and tissue splattering at his feet. But not now. Not yet.

 

Veruna rolled his thumbs along the sharp jawline, looking down at the young politician with undisguised lust. “Magister Damask may not realize what he is giving away for this. I wonder if Muuns can even appreciate beauty that isn’t gleaming with jewels or credits.”

 

Palpatine waited impatiently for Veruna to cease speaking of what he would never comprehend.

 

“But I admit, a few jewels around this pretty neck of yours wouldn’t be misplaced,” Veruna muttered, stroking his fingers over the slender throat. “You are still so fetching, boy, in a strange way… Maybe I should put you on my staff here, like him.” He turned Palpatine’s chin to look at Spice, and leered when he felt the younger man shudder. “Then I could dress you in strings of jewels, and nothing else at all. Perhaps a few more piercings. Would you like that, being kept by me?”

_Like your other boys?_ Palpatine thought, staring at the inattentive Spice, and purred back, “That might be difficult to explain to Naboo’s more traditional electorate, Minister. No, I think I will be able to …serve you best as Naboo’s Ambassador.”   

 

“So you say, boy, but I still think you would look perfect in some clamps and a chain, your little body naked for me all hours of the day, whenever I felt like having you,” Veruna leaned back in his chair, his hands slowly returning to the armrests. He looked like a bearded king in repose, a king of a small and backwater planet. Petty and proud and inbred.

 

Fool.

 

“Just imagine,” Veruna laughed, unaware of his seducer’s true thoughts. “I could pierce that pretty cock of yours and make it more sensitive. You’d like it.” Palpatine felt his lips rise in a snarl and turned it to an inviting smile. 

 

“I am a dedicated worker, Minister. Very thorough, very careful.” He reached out and gently took Veruna’s shaft in hand again, applying the barest hint of pressure and running his fingers along its length. 

 

Veruna hissed with delight. “You’re good with your hands, I’ll give you that. I never would have expected this out of you, an uptight little noble.”

 

“Oh, you’re right, I’m very tight,” Palpatine promised lowly, working him into a slow pattern of pull-and-release.

 

Veruna flushed with anticipation, his shaft twitching at the bawdy innuendo. “Sharp-tongued, aren’t you? Makes me wonder…uhhh… You can wrap it around words easily enough. But what about a cock, boy?”

 

“I’m always open to new experiences on the job, Minister,” Palpatine smiled and leaned closer, blowing out his cool breath over the older man’s length. Veruna gasped and latched his hands into his slightly curling red hair, clutching tightly and pulling him so close he nearly touched it to his lips.

 

“You know I got Spice because of you,” Veruna panted eagerly. “I wanted a boy like you, couldn’t find one even close for years until I discovered him. He’s still not quite you.”

 

Palpatine resisted the final contact and glanced up. “I’m flattered, Minister. I’ve always wanted to serve you. I’ve always admired you. As your ambassador, I would be willing to promote your vision for Naboo anywhere you sent me. I know you have plans for Naboo that will need strong support. The conservatives will resist you every step of the way.”

 

Veruna’s jaw dropped, and his hands moved to the narrow, lightly freckled shoulders. “You’d just let me use you like that? Why?”

 

Palpatine took care not to laugh at his suspicion. “There’s something about you, Minister. May I confess that I haven’t been entirely honest with you up to this point?”

 

The politician scowled, fingers digging into the pale skin. “What are you saying?”

 

“You might have suspected I was sent to negotiate for my position as ambassador.” Palpatine allowed an embarrassed blush to gather on his cheeks. “I’m not necessarily proud of that. But I couldn’t think of any other way to get close enough to you… to do this.”

 

“You’ve wanted to do this? To me?” Veruna stared, desperate to believe. How easy it was to convince people of a lie they wanted to swallow! What wretches…

 

Palpatine licked his lips slowly, pointedly, let his breath exhale over the sensitive flesh less than a centimeter from his mouth. “More than anything else. I couldn’t stop thinking about you when we last met. I wanted to know you better.”

 

Veruna struggled to lift his eyebrows and look like he didn’t care. “And…?”

 

“And I couldn’t be happier with what I’ve found, Minister,” Palpatine flicked out his tongue and lapped at the leaking tip. Veruna jerked under his hands and bit off a startled shout. A dupe. A gullible dupe.  The younger Naboo grinned up and tightened his hands. “I’ll be very glad to serve you.”

 

“Serve and service,” Veruna growled hoarsely. “If I appoint you, I want your body whenever I want.”

 

“We must be careful, Minister,” Palpatine cautioned, dismayed. Perhaps his seduction had been too successful. He didn’t relish the thought of Veruna taking him more than necessary. Of course, there were always ways to get out of it. Drunkenness, forgetfulness. “Any hint of scandal, and Naboo will turn on you.”

 

“I can be careful,” Veruna retorted, and gasped when Palpatine swirled his tongue over the head of his cock and finally slid it fully into his mouth.

 

Palpatine took him once deep and slow, then let him free with a wet pop, parting his lips and letting his own breath quicken with excitement. Veruna gazed down at him, bursting with pride and desire that he could make this young Naboo so ready and willing to be ravished. How easily his emotions could be manipulated, the Sith thought inwardly. Outwardly, he sighed and nuzzled against Veruna’s inner thigh. “We must be careful, Minister. I don’t want to see you hurt because of me.”

 

“Hush, boy, and let me look at you,” Veruna pulled his head up and guided his lips over his shaft. Palpatine let him fill his mouth, silently looking up and waiting patiently. The Minister shuddered, so pleased at the sight that words failed him for a moment.

 

Not much longer, surely….

 

“Besides, you won’t need to worry about that, Palpatine. In any case, it would have to wait until after Tapalo’s reelection – ugh,” Veruna caught himself mid-sentence with a low groan as Palpatine drew his tongue along the underside of the thick shaft. He thrust forward, and Palpatine gagged a little as it brushed the back of his throat.

 

Spice shifted against the wall when Veruna laughed.

 

“By the moon goddess, yes…” Veruna thrust again, deeper than before, and he struggled for a moment to breathe. _Through the nose, through the nose, he said._ “Take me, boy, take me down that dirty little throat of yours.”

 

Palpatine shifted on his haunches and began moving his hands over the base of the veined flesh and the large balls underneath. Veruna’s head fell back against the chair, his cock throbbing and choking the younger Naboo as he pushed it hard between his lips.

 

Palpatine grimaced when Veruna came with a shout, filling his mouth and throat and burning like liquid fire as he swallowed it down and lapped at the stream of cum. The fluid began dripping from the corners of his mouth as it overflowed, and Veruna groaned when he saw it. He pulled his softening cock free.

 

“Come up here, boy,” he said, tugging at Palpatine’s arms until the younger man lay gingerly across his lap. “You’re not hard,” he accused, feeling insistently at the slender cock, circling the base and offering a rough squeeze.

 

Palpatine blushed and repressed an urge to shove his wandering hand away. “I don’t get hard during blowjobs, Minister. I’m not sure why. Please, it was my pleasure to serve you.”  

 

Veruna looked skeptical, but laughed. “You did. You served me well. I’m impressed.”

 

“Thank you, Minister.” Palpatine sat up and slid off the other man, reaching for his trousers and robes. Veruna was spent; he would be spared the second act of his dire play. But before he could escape, Veruna lunged forward and caught him by the hips, turning him, pulling him back onto his lap and forcing him to straddle one thick thigh. Palpatine shivered and asked softly, “Minister?”

 

 What was the man hoping to accomplish?

 

“You don’t think this is over, boy?” Veruna laughed. He placed one hand in the center of Palpatine’s chest and dipped the middle finger of his other hand daringly into the cleft, brushing against the tight ring of muscles. Palpatine arched against him with a soft gasp, not entirely faked.

 

“Minister? I don’t think we have time…”

 

“Nonsense. You’ll stay here until I’m ready again,” Veruna growled. Then the older man’s eyes flickered over his servant, still ramrod straight against the wall and holding the refill of blossom wine. “Spice. Come here, boy.”

 

Palpatine’s eyes widened in alarm. _No…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Poor Palpatine, this is not his day. Sith training seriously sucks. Seriously.   
> 2\. Veruna is so slimy. So. So. Slimy. Uughh…  
> 3\. Why did Plagueis have to make Sidious’s first trial of this kind so difficult?  
> 4\. Stay tuned for the next chapter, in which Palpatine works to secure his appointment and complete the personal favor of Hego Damask.


	4. End Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Palpatine completes his side of the bargain and struggles to maintain his sanity in a cruel universe as he keeps his eye on the prize.

Palpatine’s eyes widened in alarm, and he struggled for a moment to remove himself from Veruna’s lap until he remembered Plagueis, remembered the directive, remembered himself, and stilled like an animal caught in one of Veruna’s traps. His hesitance only pleased the older Naboo, and he could feel the flaccid cock under him twitch.

 

The bloodlust surged in his veins, and only through a rigid tug on his power was Palpatine able to keep Sidious from tearing the minister’s throat wide open in a spray of viscera and blood. How he wanted to…

 

Spice arrived at their sides. “Master?” he asked, uncertain, eyes downcast. After all, this was not a servant Veruna was courting, this was a free noble and one of the greater royal houses no less. Palpatine could feel his reluctance in the Force, and he realized: the boy was indeed sensitive to the Force. Had Plagueis known that Veruna kept such servants?

 

_I hate you,_ he thought and allowed the hate to cool and keep him there. He would face what Plagueis clearly hoped would break him. He would show him, show them all. Nothing would stop him until he held every last strand of power over their miserable, trivial lives.

 

Veruna sat up straighter and pushed Palpatine to stand in front of him, curling his arms around his narrow waist, fingers playing against his hipbones. “My friend here is having trouble getting hard, Spice. Would you like to help out?”

 

The young man flicked his eyes down at Palpatine’s cock; what he found there clearly frightened him. He recognized the lack of desire that Veruna had missed in his drunken eagerness to believe the lie, and he shifted on his feet like a spooked colt. “Master…”

  
Scoffing, Veruna slapped Palpatine gently on the buttocks. “He’s not normally so shy, Sheev - sorry - boy. But he’s excellent with his mouth, maybe as good as you are. Spice, show him.”

 

Spice swallowed his fear and nodded, sinking to his bony knees in front of Palpatine and reaching out for the young noble’s shaft. Palpatine sucked in his breath sharply when cool dry fingers wrapped around his length.

 

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” Veruna asked, and suddenly his heavy hands were pushing down on his shoulders, and he brought Palpatine to his knees in front of his chair until the young politician and the servant boy were face to face. Spice looked at him, eyes begging for forgiveness. Palpatine stared back, unwilling to offer any.

 

Slowly, as though doomed, Spice crouched lower in submission, hand moving over the soft length in a rhythmic pattern that Palpatine loathed so much, he could barely stop himself from slapping the servant away. Only his extensive training held him in place and accepting the attention. Thick fingers crawled up under his arms and tweaked the bars in his nipples, and he gasped! Searing fire touched his core. The fire stirred his cock.

 

Sith ritual be damned to the Seven Hells! Spice flinched, unknowing that he felt the Force boiling in hot anger.

 

Veruna hissed with pleasure in his ear. “You like that?”

 

Palpatine gritted his teeth and nodded, not trusting himself to lie easily at the moment. Instead, he concentrated on taking his mind away until he could calm himself. It took a great deal of effort when he looked at the servant in front of him; this was not what he needed. He called on the Dark Side for help, as Plagueis had suggested so long ago, and Spice looked up and smiled cautiously when he noticed the change beginning.

 

Palpatine felt his hips jerk as Spice’s wide mouth slid over his cock, and Veruna’s hands were going everywhere, and he could barely think of anything except that wide face rotting and dead in the grave, thick beard tearing away in tufts, taken by soilboarers for their underground nests, and the hate swelled in him. He sent it south, and Spice, encouraged, quickened the movements of his lips and tongue, lapping at him until Palpatine felt a low moan dislodge from deep in his throat.

 

“That’s it, boy,” Veruna encouraged with a growl of his own.

 

The Zeltron’s voice, light and teasing, came back to him in that moment. _Lie back and think of Naboo_ , he had purred while draping himself over the young Sith, licking at shivering pale skin. _That’s where your Master says you’re from. You do what you must, little human. If your master wants you to fuck someone, do it for yourself. Get yourself ahead, you’re going to have to do it anyway, and it can be either torture… or revenge._

_Revenge_ , he panted nervously as two of Veruna’s thick fingers slid between his lips and a hot tongue plied itself against his ear. “Dunnn,” he slurred, protesting around the exploring digits and arched up when Veruna’s other hand slid low between his legs.

 

The older man chuckled. “So smooth down here, like a boy.”

 

He remembered the chemical treatments years ago that Plagueis put him through, humiliating treatments that removed nearly all his bodily hair except the sagittal line and small tuft that Plagueis found so endlessly seductive and charmingly human. Muuns didn’t have any body hair at all, so it amused him to mold his human apprentice in his image but for a few choice accoutrements that never failed to draw in the master.

 

He gasped and jerked forward when Veruna’s finger brushed his entrance without warning. Unlike the Zeltron, he didn’t have to like absolutely everything at once.   

 

His abrupt motion caused Spice to graze him with his teeth, and as the servant mumbled a horrified apology, he shrank back against the cool leather of the armchair, grasping at Veruna’s thighs for balance. The minister returned to fondling his hairless balls with the leisurely pleasure of his left hand, and only when Palpatine gagged on his fingers did he remove his right hand from the young Sith’s mouth and tweak a pale studded nipple with aggressive purpose.

 

His whole body felt on fire, tortured and teased into a state of utter vulnerability. His Master’s dark ritual had done its dastardly work, raising the nerves in his body to a heightened state of absolute lust any time Veruna touched him. Any other might have helplessly come, and he had to use every part of his discipline and training to keep himself on the edge of control and seemingly a willing recipient of their affections, fighting the shame. He watched the slender body in front of him, bent almost double as the servant lapped at his cock and clutched at the leather of his boots.

 

“Almost there,” Veruna whispered in his ear, watching over his shoulder in clear fascination. “You’re going to enjoy this.” 

 

One of them would, anyway. Sick to his stomach at the sight of Spice servicing him and desperate for some element of control, Palpatine steeled himself, demanded strength from the Dark Side, then turned his head and sealed his thin lips over Veruna’s thick hairy ones. Startled, the older man groaned when a lithe tongue slipped through the gap and curled around his teeth, locking him into the kiss with brutal efficiency. Spice stared up, forgetting his duty, letting the hard cock slide free of his swollen lips.

 

Finally, a stunned Veruna gasped for air and pulled back, and Palpatine let himself whimper softly at the loss. “Gods, boy!” the minister stammered, running a hand through his thick hair. “You nearly made me come without being hard.”

 

Impossible, Palpatine knew, but his job was well done. Veruna impatiently shoved Spice away and dragged Palpatine’s slender body back up into his lap, showering him with open-mouthed, greedy kisses. Palpatine let his tongue take what it wanted. The servant crawled backwards on the carpet and waited at the edge. Palpatine looked at him without really seeing him, and Veruna teased his body as he waited, playfully pinching his nipples and licking his sweat-slicked skin. Once every few moments, he would lean forward and whisper obscene ideas and dark dreams.

 

Sidious determined to forget it all someday. Palpatine never would.

 

“You know all those times I noticed you with your father, years ago, and I never imagined that you were such a whore,” Veruna said suddenly after a long pause of stroking idly at the younger man’s attentive shaft. “Spice is effective, isn’t he?”

 

“N-Not like you, Minister.”

 

“You’ve played so hard to get,” the older man chuckled. Veruna continued to toy with him, tracing several fingers around his sensitive glans. Palpatine tensed and shifted when one digit rubbed insistently against the bundle of nerves just under his cock head. How he despised his body’s involuntary physical reactions to touch. Someday he would be able to control himself entirely and no longer be subject to another’s designs. When he seduced, it would be entirely on his terms.

 

But right now, Palpatine could not bring himself to speak, not to this worm who pawed at him with eager fingers.

 

“You were what, fourteen years of age? I wanted you then,” Veruna growled. “Your little body, this red hair… I imagined what you’d look like on your back with your legs wide open for me, but I couldn’t touch you then. Cosinga would have had my head.” He grinned and reached between the splayed pale legs to tease the tight entrance. “But Cosinga isn’t here, and now I’m touching you, boy.”

 

“Yes,” Palpatine ground out, arching into his touch and smiling. “Yes you are.” He shook away the loathing and leaned closer, pulling Veruna’s hand to his chest. He knew exactly what a disgusting man like Veruna wanted to hear. The lie was difficult, but he forced it between unsteady lips. “I would have let you f-fuck me then, too. I wouldn’t have tried to really stop you,” he purred, tilting his chin back as Veruna rubbed at his throat. “It’s a pity you didn’t try harder to get me alone. You could have had me then, Minister. On my back, or however you would have liked me.”   

 

“And we’re alone now,” Veruna whispered, running his fingers down to the creamy, silken sides of his prey. Palpatine could feel the older man’s renewed desire pressing against his buttocks. “Would you still like me to fuck you, boy?”

 

_I would like you dead._

 

Palpatine sighed and traced his hand down over Veruna’s, forcing him to pause and tugging Veruna’s eyes up to his own. He let a bit of hesitance, of boyish innocence and blushing curiosity, flood the distance between them. “Yes… Minister. I- I even came prepared…”

 

Veruna licked his suddenly dry lips, spittle dripping into his thick beard. “Well well, aren’t you a good boy. Are you a virgin?”

 

Spice flinched and cowered lower on the floor, looking anywhere but at his master and guest.

 

Truth was a funny thing, and evasive. He had once been a virgin, not so many years ago. Five. Hard to imagine now. “I hope you won’t begrudge me the company of the beautiful women in the Apprentice Legislature, Minister.” A suggestion only, not even really a lie. He had been a virgin once...

 

_Impossibly long, inhuman fingers pressing into him as he writhed on his back, taking him away from himself, the universe exploding in one icy thick thrust, internal begging for mercy, no mercy… never mercy._

 

Veruna roared with laughter. “No, no I couldn’t do that to you.” Then he decided. “You might not be on your back yet, but I’m paying for the whole deal. Turn around.” His hands insistently tugged at his hips until the younger Naboo was straddling his thick legs, facing out. The older man grinned against his narrow shoulder. “Let’s get you ready for me.”

 

“Oil, Minister, in my pocket…” Palpatine whispered, and Veruna leaned forward to pull the garment to him and fish the small nondescript bottle out.

 

Palpatine shivered when Veruna grabbed his cock and pumped him until he was leaking. He had to concentrate to keep himself from destroying the man for his insolence. The Minister took two of his slickened fingers and slid them up into the younger man’s channel, edging him until every nerve was tense and raw with laid open and deliberately courted pleasure. Veruna moved his fingers in and out with clear experience. Palpatine bit his lip and let out a soft moan, and he could feel the man’s desire rampaging through his faint Force signature.

 

The monster in his own veins begged for blood. Not for a long while yet with this one. Someday… The minister curled his fingers forward, stroked at the sensitive nerves bundled in his core, and Palpatine gritted his teeth with barely concealed rage.

 

“I don’t want to open you too much yet,” Veruna purred, thrusting his fingers deep. “I want you to be very tight on my cock.”

 

Palpatine sucked in his breath as the Minister pulled at his waist and he felt the thick flared head of the shaft slide between his legs, hot and hard again and weeping. He adopted a small stammer. “Do I – can I have a minute, sir? You’re… well, so large.” _Nothing like Plagueis_.

 

“That’ll make it better for me,” Veruna laughed and shifted, bringing his fully erect member to the tight entrance, his arousal spiking when Palpatine flinched at the contact and flushed, instinctively trying to move away. _He shouldn’t be taking me, Master! Not like this… this is betrayal, fire, ash…_

Veruna drew him back over him. “No backing out now. We have an arrangement. Be glad I didn’t have Spice take you. He’s bigger than I am. Come on now, let me in.”  

 

Palpatine rocked back gently, and the first few centimeters pushed into him, stretching him wide enough to make him whimper, not acting. Not as wide as Plagueis, but too wide all the same. And different, hotter, wetter. Veruna gasped as he pushed his cock forward. For a moment, the young noble’s body resisted him, clenching tightly each time Veruna pressed in deeper. For a moment, Sidious forgot to breathe as the memories of Plagueis pushing into him, the pirates pushing into him… the dark skinned pirate… Veruna when he was only 14 and his whole body trembled with fear…. _Don’t be frightened, boy… so fragile like a bird…_ no. No…

 

“Stars!” Veruna gasped and coaxed. “You’re tight, boy! Come on, open for me, open for my big cock…”

 

Palpatine bit his lip and tried to force his body to relax, but he tensed further when Veruna shoved roughly against him, sliding in deeper. “Minister!” he cried softly and arched his back.

 

Veruna laughed breathlessly. “I’ve not had a fit this tight in years, boy. You want me in you?”

 

“Ye- yes…” he panted, staring at Spice. _No… never…_

 

“You want my cock?”

 

“Yes… oh…” Not deeper. His body told the truth, shuddering in pain as the Minister claimed his political prize, but Veruna was no longer listening.

 

“Say it, boy,” Veruna paused once he bottomed out, his thick hands pinning the younger man’s hips against his own.

 

“I want your cock, Minister,” he hissed when Veruna twisted his hips and the thick shaft teased along his prostate. It made him lift up to escape the sudden burst of pleasure, but Veruna pulled him down again and nipped at his shoulder. The older Naboo prodded him inside, experimentally moving his hips and brushing up against deep and sensitive areas.

 

Palpatine increased the friction, and Veruna bucked up into him. Now that Veruna was in, now that there was no going back, this became easier than the Muun, and Veruna could not look inside his mind to see the naked hate like Plagueis could, and he moved himself over the older man until Veruna was babbling inanely in his ear, fingers digging into his sides as they both panted for air.

 

“So beautiful, boy, so beautiful, I’ve wanted you for years and you’re better than I dreamed, so tight and hot for me… you move like the gods, ah, Sheev…”

 

Thankfully, the older man was too eager, and the experience shattered in short order when Veruna came in him with a muffled roar, breathless delight. Palpatine nearly gasped at the hot flush of semen, so different from Plagueis’s icy cold pleasure. He rolled his hips as the Zeltron had taught him, and Veruna whimpered now, helpless in the throes of his mindless orgasm.

 

When Veruna stopped his weak finishing thrusts, Palpatine slid free of him, no longer willing to tolerate the older man’s limp shaft in his body. He turned, looping one arm around the broad shoulders and pulling Veruna close. He tried to ignore the slick sliding cum between his legs that told him he was nothing but a well-used prostitute now to the other man. His body, for power. “Well, Minister?” he purred to hide the shaking helpless rage in his voice. “Are you convinced?”

 

“Ah, yes,” Veruna gasped for air. His large eyes flickered down. “You… you haven’t come, boy…” He reached for him, but Palpatine caught his hand and pinned it playfully to the chair.

 

He didn’t know who he hated more in that moment: Plagueis or Veruna.

 

“Leave it, Minister,” he suggested, applying just a hint of the Force behind his words. Spice looked away. “Leave me hard and wanting you, so I don’t soon forget who did this to me, who drives me…mad…”

 

Veruna shuddered, leaking against his leg. “Boy, you’ll be the death of me…”

 

Palpatine chuckled. “It will be a good death, Veruna. A little death.” On Naboo, especially intense orgasms often drew comparisons with the sensation of losing consciousness, or even dying. How fitting in this case. _A little, meaningless death._ In his daze, the Minister seemed to like his name being spoken. Palpatine leaned closer, pressing the length of his body to the older man, suppressing the urging in his blood to get away, to clean himself over and over until nothing remained but the shadow. “Do I have your word?”

 

Veruna’s jaw worked wordlessly for a moment before he nodded. “Any-anything you want, boy.”

 

Well. Plagueis had been correct. Palpatine smiled and kissed the gasping man again and swallowed back the sickness that bubbled in his throat as thick hands pawed at every centimeter of his slick skin. Veruna laughed when he jerked and whimpered and whined but never came.

 

He wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. Never.

 

Much later, when he arrived at his apartment in Theed, guaranteed of his new position as Ambassador of Naboo in the coming election year, Palpatine went into his shower and scrubbed his delicate skin until it bled from animal claws raking down like fire. The Beast howled in his ears, beat a rhythm of wheezing madness into his lungs until he could barely breathe and red spots flashed in his eyes. He curled on the floor of the small unit, let the stream pool under his clawing fingertips and pulled the Darkness over him like a shroud, and he hated and raged, but he did not cry. 

 

A threshold crossed, a trial completed, a rite conferred. Little stood between him and the power that would be his in time.

 

Much too late for crying. Now he could only focus on the future, and the vision that suddenly drifted in the scalding steam teased cruel laughter from his bitten lips.

 

They would all die. Someday.

 

He wasn’t certain how he got out of the shower, but in the darkest of the night, when he lay wrapped in his nightclothes and three blankets huddled in the corner of his apartment’s bedroom, far from the comfortable wide bed that only brought his memories to fresh life again, made him think of _Plagueis,_ his traitorous mind whispered: _not enough._

Not enough that they die. They needed to suffer as well. They needed to regret everything before he shoved their spirits into Chaos. Every last one of them. The small voice that had been with him through infancy, through childhood, through his apprenticeship, spoke now, and he lay quietly listening.

 

What it said made him smile, bitter and triumphant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Poor Palpatine! D: It’s an age-old method, to seduce one’s political enemies for favors or access (or assassinations), but it never makes it any easier. This was so disturbing and hard to write.  
> 2\. No wonder Palpatine wanted to task Maul to carry out the revenge on Veruna later on, but Plagueis claimed his prize instead. I wonder what Palpatine would have planned for the former king. Something terribly unpleasant, no doubt.  
> 3\. The next story in the series is going to be the OC one, which will get very… interesting. It takes place in 60 BBY, two years before this one does.  
> 4\. Small favor from Plagueis = a little extra Force Lightning intensity at the end of Palpatine’s apprenticeship.  
> 5\. Once Palpatine calms down, he's going to have to figure out what to do about Spice. We might find out someday.


End file.
